


Over the hills

by ko_writes



Series: Athletic Ouran [1]
Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Child Abuse, Childhood Memories, Dreams and Nightmares, Flashbacks, Gen, Running, fairytales - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 20:33:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6129198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ko_writes/pseuds/ko_writes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dreams are what they are; an escape from reality. Nightmares are what they are; fear and painful images. Memories are what they are; bittersweet.</p><p>He just hopes that, one day, he'll be over the hills and far away; where dreams come true and nothing can hurt you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction ~ Aeroplane arms

   _He ran, arms outstretched, into the garden maze lined with purple roses; his laughter – light and uninhibited – floating along the warm, summer breeze. Bruised, little legs pumped, propelling him forward as fast as he was able._

_“Tom, Tom; he was the piper’s son; he learnt to play when he was young!” The he sang, smile widening on slightly chubby cheeks, “But all the tune that he could play; was over the hills and far away!”_

_“Kyouya!” His sister called, “I can keep up, slow down!”_

_He turned on his heel – arms still outstretched but brandished with a flourish, as if he were a circus performer – and faced his older sister._

_Her long, black hair was caught by the breeze, its locks appearing to float behind her as she ran, panting, with her trusted video camera in hand._

_“You’ve got to run, Fuyumi!” He enthused, “Run, and run, and run; it’s like you’re flying! Nothing can hurt you!”_

_“You say that… as if you believe it…” Fuyumi panted, coming to a stop in front of her brother, “Running… doesn’t solve anything…”_

_For a moment, his smile fell and settled into a frown, adding years he didn’t have to his face and a tiredness to his eyes that he usually his so well; only for a passing moment before another smile took its place._

_“You can pretend.”_

_It was spoken softly, smile serene, while the tightness remained around his eyes._

_“Over the hills and a great way off,” He sang once more. Slower, sadder, than before but the tightness fading into a dreamy look, “The wind shall blow my top-knot off…”_

_“Kyouya?” Fuyumi questioned, an unexpected gust of wind blowing through her hair and caressing her face._

_“I’m going to do it, Fuyumi,” He promised, “Over the hills… That’s where dreams come true and nothing can ever hurt you; I’m going to find it!”_

_Determination set his brow, a small fist clenching, and a victorious smirk curling his lips. Her eyes widened, having never before seen that look of her little brother’s face before. “Kyouya…”_

_“Then he’ll never hurt us again, sister. I promise.”_

* * *

 

   Kyouya bolted upright in bed, his breath heavy.

“ _I don’t need this tonight – or any night, for that matter_ ,” He thought, “ _I need sleep._ ”

   He raked a hand through his knotted, dishevelled hair and let out a shaky sigh.

   “Idiotic memories,” He murmured, his wide eyes becoming dull and half-closed, emotionless once more, “Just the pathetic delusions of broken children."


	2. Ashes of purple roses

   He shrugged on his coat, knowing sleep was impossible now, and stepped out into the cold air. The moon and stars shone above him, bathing the large yard in dim, cool light and allowing him to see just well enough to find the scorch marks in the grass.

   “ _How long has it been since dad burned down the rose maze_?” He questioned himself, lids falling slack over his dead eyes, “ _Five years? The marks never fade…_ ”

   He knelt beside the scorches, running his fingertips over the blackened dirt.

   “ _I used to ran around this maze for hours, trying to find the centre_ ,” He reminisced, allowing a handful of dry soil to crumble between his fingers, and stood, “ _It’s pretty easy to do now, though_.”

   He sighed, stepping through the break in the line – where the entrance had once been – and following a random path.

   “ _The rose bushes used to be so high, I thought they touched the clouds_ ,” He recollected, “ _I was such a stupid boy, who was far too obsessed with fairytales._ ”

   He stopped for a moment, closing his eyes and drawing a harsh breath. “Tom, Tom, the piper’s son; he learnt to play when he was young,” He sung under his breath as he drew near the centre of the maze, “But all the tune that he could play…”

   He did it. He reached the centre.

   “Was over the hills and far away…” He trailed off, hanging his head. It was so empty, reaching the centre of the rose maze, which wasn’t even _there_ anymore; and what for? Some idiotic dream? Idiotic memory?

   “There’s no point,” He sighed.

   “No point to what?”

   He cut himself off before he could yelp, but his heart hammered in his chest at the sudden shock. He swallowed thickly.

   “What are you doing, Fuyumi?” He asked, turning to face his sister, “It’s late.”

   “I could ask you the same thing,” She countered, “You need your sleep tonight, you’ll die tomorrow if you don’t get your rest; and it’s too cold to be… playing.”

   “I can’t sleep,” He stated, “I had a dream… a memory…”

   “Kyouya -?”

   “You’re clueless, Fuyumi; as always,” He muttered, stepping away from the centre and through the charred lines, “I’m going back in now. I need to win tomorrow; and to win, I need sleep.”

   “Kyouya, just talk to me!” Fuyumi exclaimed, “You haven’t been yourself lately, and I’m tired of not being told anything.”

   “Go back to bed, Fuyumi…”

   It was barely a whisper as Kyouya walked back towards the house, not sparing her a single glance.

   “We both don’t want to wake up father, and I need my wits about me tomorrow.”

   He closed the door behind him, shedding his coat once more and shuffling his way back to his room, hoping the dreams would cease.

   “Why is running so important to you?” Fuyumi questioned the empty air, “It’s not like you’ll win your other race with it.”

   _“You can pretend… over the hills and far away… dreams come true…_ ”

   She shook her head, sighing. “We aren’t children anymore.”


	3. Visualisation and natural talent; method and skill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tamaki and Kyouya participate in their first events.

“Hello everyone!” Renge announced over the system, her voice echoing around Ourans’s outdoor track and field facility. She wasn’t even the official announcer, Kyouya would grumble later, as soon as he and Tamaki finished their stretches, “We have an exciting day of athletics ahead! Not to mention two very promising second-years attempting to break their own records! Wait… Ootori Kyouya and Suoh Tamaki?! Why didn’t you guys tell me?!”

Kyouya sighed, moving on to another stretch and ignoring the flailing fanatic on the loud speaker. He didn’t really care about winning, or beating his record; running was enough for him.

“I wonder if we’ll do it again this year,” Tamaki wonders aloud, stretching his arms, “It’d be cool if we got school records _again_. I know you run for running’s sake, but think of all the cheers we’d get!”

“I have no interest in trying to shake off the track team’s poachers for six months after this, like last year,” He huffed, “Yes, I’d get to run more often, but I’m in the Host Club until you learn how to budget; so… forever.”

“You make that sound like a bad thing, mon ami,” Tamaki chuckled.

“What about you?” Kyouya retaliated, “Javelin and shot put are your passions, why not see if you can train a little more and get up to a competitive level; try qualifying for the Olympics.”

“Not really my thing either,” Tamaki waved away, “I’m just in it for the fun.”

“Could all the competitors for the second-year male javelin please make your way to the designated area now,” The official announcer requested, having finally kicked the fuming, fangirling Renge out of his booth.

“See ya,” Tamaki waved as he began to jog away, “Don’t pull a hamstring!”

“Don’t wretch your shoulder!” He called back.

“Second-year, male, two hundred metre sprint competitors to your marks.” 

* * *

 

                Looking down the track, it was easy to see the finishing line. Just two hundred metres. That was all. He’d sprint as fast as he could, so fast he could feel the elation of the Adrenalin; so fast it’d feel like his legs would fall off, like he did when he was a child.

                All he had to do was think of those days, running around with his brothers and sister, and he was unstoppable; the track was only a guideline, it didn’t matter.

                “On your marks!”

                He got in position, taking a breath. The cheering crowds didn’t matter, the other competitors didn’t matter, the track didn’t matter; he just had to run as fast as he could on the signal.

                Gunshot.

                Run. 

* * *

 

                “I thought Kyouya-senpai was a record holder,” Haruhi pondered as they watched the opponents on the track team pull ahead of the raven haired host as soon as the race started, “I’m not an athlete, but he didn’t look like he was in the same position as the others at the start…”

                The twins shrugged.

                “Kyouya-senpai isn’t on the track team, and isn’t a trained sprinter,” Hikaru informed, watching as Kyouya began to overtake the other competitors.

                “That’s why they get frustrated when he wins,” Kaoru chuckled, “He’s just fast; his starting form is terrible – a shame, as he’s self-taught – and he’s slow to come out of it.”

                “It’s why he doesn’t compete in the one hundred metre sprint,” They summed up in unison, “It’s not long enough to hit his stride.”

                Haruhi watched as Kyouya slipped onto first place, just in time to cross to the finishing line. She bet it’d have to be frustrating for the others, who’d trained so hard, to be beaten by someone who was just naturally fast… But, surely Kyouya could afford his own trainer…? 

* * *

 

                Run.

                _“It’s like flying, Fuyumi!”_

                Feet pounding pleasurably, firmly, on the track.

                _“I never want to slow down!”_

                His own breathing and heartbeat echoing in his ears.

                _“I want to run for ever, and ever, and ever!”_

                The wind in his face, whipping though his hair.

                _“Nothing can stop me!”_

                Finish line. 

* * *

 

                When Kyouya came out of his ‘zone’, he could hear the girls in the crowd cheer his name, the deprecating sneers of the other competitors; it seemed like he’d won again, and he didn’t even notice.

                He felt bad for showing up the track team, but he was too elated from the run to truly care. The win was satisfying, he supposed, but just secondary to that feeling of flying down the track.

                He smiled, as was his duty as a host, and waved to the girls in the stands before making his way over to the twins and Haruhi; at least he’d be able to watch Tamaki’s event, what with the amount of students competing this year. 

* * *

 

 

                Holding the javelin in his hands, he smiled. Its weight was almost comforting, it’s form sleek and aerodynamic.

                He could do this.

                He brought his arm back, holding the javelin at the best angle, and ran.

                _Make sure you don’t over step the line._

_Steady._

_Start to swing._

_Release._

“Sixty-nine metres!”

                _Damn… Almost made it…_  

* * *

 

                “Well done Tamaki!” Kyouya cheered from the stands. It wasn’t overly enthusiastic, but the feeling behind it was the same. Tamaki might not have beaten the record he set last year, seventy-one metres, but it was still close to Olympic level, and would probably be the winning score.

                It was a shame, however. Tamaki’s skill was developed with training, and he’d done his best over the past year; he’d mentioned how seventy-one metres was a fluke at the time, but Kyouya had honestly thought he’d beat it this year.

                He just liked to run, was just fast; he couldn’t _really_ compete with trained skill, he was too rough around the edges for that.

                Oh well, it didn’t really matter. Their first events were over, at least, so he could concentrate on the five hundred metres…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, you caught me!
> 
> This isn't an AU, as such, but kind of is at the same time? IDK. Basically, Kyouya's just fast; it's not good form or training or anything.
> 
> Also, I'm not an athlete. At all. If I make a mistake, please correct me so I don't look like a complete idiot :)


End file.
